Top chef I am not

I entered a bake-off at work. The last time I entered a bake-off I lost. I don't even think I got an honorable mention. My friend has long maintained that the reason I didn't win was because my dessert was not sexy enough. So for this bake-off, I thought about the sassiest desserts in my arsenal and settled on a Chocolate Cake with Peanut Butter Cream Cheese Frosting and Chocolate Ganache. Well hello lover! I baked it yesterday morning at SIX A.M. so that I wasn't rushing last night when I went to put it together. I lovingly swathed the cake layers in plastic wrap while I went to work, which made me feel slightly weird and serial-killerish. Like Dexter.

I labored over the icing, making sure it was smooth and artful, with no crumbs showing because that just wouldn't do. I gently smoothed the ganache over the sides and tried to shape the perfect drips because it was not as drippy as I was expecting. I carefully settled the cake into the refrigerator for bed. One does hate to have a sassy cake sleep alone, but it needed its beauty rest.

I dragged the cake in this morning (it weights like 8 million pounds) and got it settled for the bake off. It was definitely the most alluring cake there if I do say so myself. I ended up winning 2nd place in the cake competition (after the lady that entered four desserts and is a huge cheater). And the prize for second place? Well, it is a 49 piece Dollar Store food storage set... which appears to be made out of shady looking poisonous plastic. Awesome. I don't know if my ego can take the cognitive dissonance between my effort and the prize. But then I came home and the valet guys in my building (who were the recipients of a Red Velvet Cake last weekend) said they would pay me to bake them a cake for a family party instead of getting one at the store. Validation station! Who needs a bake-off?